Raise a glass to the four of us
by Elamina666
Summary: John Laurens was dead. Hamilton's feet pounded against the ground just as his heart beat its frantic rhythm in his chest, fueled by grief. The rain mixed with the tears cascading down his cheeks. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know how far he'd come, but he needed to escape. A. Ham/Eliza... but at the same time A.Ham/Laurens.


AN: This was written for my friend's birthday. If you liked it, please leave a review, and make sure to wish her a happy birthday!

 **RAISE A GLASS TO THE FOUR OF US…**

He was waiting. Waiting for what seemed like a lifetime - no, an eternity. He was waiting for the steady rise and fall of the mattress that told him Eliza had fallen asleep, waiting for the blanket of sleep that would drown out the sound of his muffled movement.

As Eliza's breathing began to even out, Hamilton slipped out of the covers as quietly as he could in his emotional haze, so he wouldn't disturb her, and walked out the door. He allowed the door to click into place quietly as he slowly sneaked away.

The front door closed and Hamilton took a deep breath as he stepped out onto the street, the rain falling gently around him. The wind wrapped him in its cold embrace and he clutched his coat tighter to his chest.

One piece of paper. That's all it was and yet- it was so much more. He could remember the moment clear as day, how that one word had shot though his heart, causing a painful heat to spread from his heart to everywhere inside him.

Dead.

 _Dead._

 _John Laurens was dead._

Hamilton ran, his feet splashing drops of water all around him as he ran into numerous puddles. Eliza would yell at him for getting his coat muddy and wet but he didn't _care_. He didn't care if the damned thing was ripped to shreds! _He didn't care about anything._

No, that wasn't true. He just _wished_ he didn't care about anything because then he wouldn't care about how John was….

Dead.

It rang in his mind like a sledgehammer as he ran from his home, from the paper, from his Eliza. His feet pounded against the ground just as his heart beat it's frantic rhythm in his chest, fueled by grief. The rain mixed with the tears cascading down his cheeks. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know how far he'd come, but he needed to escape. He just needed to go, and so he started running away and away and faster and faster and faster-

Hamilton stopped for a moment to catch his breath. His breath was ragged and wet as he gasped for air like a drowning man after being saved, but he wasn't saved, he was still drowning, down, and deep into the depths of his sorrow, of his-

 _How long have I been running?_

A carriage streaked down the road, splashing Hamilton with more water. He looked down at his drenched clothes in annoyance before looking up and noticing a sign that hung outside of a bar across the road from him.

Of course he had run to this place.

He glanced at the other side of the street. It was empty now, desolate, but he could remember when it was light, and cheerful, and the start of a new life.

"Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?"

It was a sunny day on a busy street. Hamilton smiled as he remembered the look of surprise on Burr's face.

"Talk less, smile more." he sang softly, retracing his steps down the road, remembering his own astonishment at Burr's words, "Don't let them know what you're against or what you're for. Trust me, if you want to get ahead, fools who run their mouths off wind u-"

He stopped in front of the bar, remembering with a pang of sadness, the agony in his body burning, the man who had greeted them inside.

"Yo I'm John Laurens in the place to be-"

The lump in Hamilton's throat prevented him from singing anymore. He pushed open the door hesitantly and walked in.

Lafayette and Mulligan were sitting at a table, silent. The rest of the tables were empty, and the rain continued to pour outside.

Hamilton sat down beside them, without a word, wiping away tears. He reminisced about the times when the others used to tease him for crying, but Lafayette and Mulligan didn't say a word about the torrent of tears streaming down his cheeks.

Lafayette opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. Even though nobody said a word, Hamilton knew that the quiet in the empty bar was equivalent to a wailing scream of grief and anger.

"H-He was a good man," Hamilton stuttered, surprising even himself. He almost never stuttered. The last time he had stuttered was after the-

The hurricane.

He needed to distract himself. He took a quill out of his pocket and started to write on a nearby napkin. He started slow, but picked up the pace as the words kept coming.

We hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal. Laurens fought against slavery, he knew better than anyone how all men are created equal. Laurens was an exquisite person. He was able to bring together so many people. He fought for a just cause. He fought for justice. Laurens was my friend. Laurens was a good man. Laurens is dead. Dead. _Dead_. Why do good men die?May not live to see our glory. Death. Hurricane. Parents. Why? When will I die? Why can't _I die?_ Death. Memories. Why do roses have to wilt? Rose. Red. Blood. Guns. Ten paces **FIRE**! Dead. War. Rise up-

Hamilton suddenly realized that he had ripped the paper with his frantic writing. He let his head drop into his hands, defeated.

Mulligan watched Hamilton struggle to keep his composure, but still didn't say anything. The connection between Hamilton and John was so obvious. It must have taken such a toll on Hamilton-

Suddenly, loudly interrupting the bleak silence, the door slammed open and Burr raced in, practically skipping with delight.

"You guys won't believe it!" He yelled with joy, "Theodosia-"

His smile dropped as he saw their sorrowful faces.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes searching for a sign from Hamilton, then Mulligan, to Lafayette, then falling on the one empty chair beside them.

"Where's John?" He asked, even as part of him already realized. His suspicion was confirmed when nobody answered him, just looked down and hunched their shoulders more.

"I'm so sorry," he sighed, pulling up another chair, "He was a brave man, a good person."

"D-d-death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the s-s-saints," Hamilton sang with a shaky voice,"it j-j-just takes and it takes and...it..t-t-takes," he gritted his teeth.

He turned away, muffling but not completely silencing his small sobs.

Burr shook his head. This was wrong. He refused to see the three men in front of him like this. He refused to see them hopeless. He refused to see them like...like... himself.

He couldn't bear looking at Hamilton and not seeing a fighter. He couldn't acknowledge the fact that Lafayette was letting himself fall into sadness. He couldn't see Mulligan slumped in a chair, looking like he had aged twenty years.

He had to do something.

"When you're living on your knees you rise up," he sang softly, "I know he's gone, but you have to rise up."

Nobody responded to him.

"You can't just throw away your shot! Don't throw away your shot, you're just like this country, you're young, scrappy, and hungry."

Nothing.

"You gotta take this horse by the reigns." Burr rapped desperately to Lafayette.

Lafayette shifted slightly, but he didn't look up. He was so saddened by his friend's passing that could hardly remember how to speak French, let alone English.

"And you!" Burr stood as he pointed,"You're Hercules Mulligan! When you get knocked down you get the **** back up again!"

Mulligan continued to drink his beer, trying to drown out his sorrows in the alcohol. The other men didn't realize it, drowning their own grief as they were, but he had chosen John's favorite drink, even though he hated it.

Burr sighed as he sat back down. Was there any way to raise the spirits of the broken men in front of him? He glanced at the napkin in front of Hamilton, wincing as he saw how pessimistic it was-

There it was. Written there, on the ripped napkin. Burr knew exactly what to say

"He didn't live to see our glory," he sang slowly, tapping the beat on the table, "But he gladly joined the fight. And when our children tell his story, they'll tell the story of that night."

Nothing but a sigh from Mulligan. Burr started to stand up and walk away. If that couldn't do it, nothing would. Burr turned around a last time as he reached the door, looking for an ounce of hope in the eyes of the three men. Finding none, he turned to walk out.

"Raise a glass to freedom."

Alexander barely got the words out, his voice shaking and just loud enough for the others to hear. Burr turned back around, a smile growing on his face.

"Something they will never take away, no matter what they tell you," the others joined in softly, but gradually gaining volume

"Raise a glass to the fou-" Burr stopped himself, unsure of whether he should include himself.

"To the four of us," Alexander completed, making Burr smile.

"Tomorrow there'll be more of us!" They all sang in unison, and the air shook with passion and emotion as they all stood. Their voices filled the air, weaving vibrating music that pulsed with their grief and sorrow, but also their hope and friendship.

"Let's have another round tonight!"

Alexander was still crying a little, but he no longer looked defeated. Lafayette playfully nudged him.

"It's okay, mon ami! Laurens was a great man, and an amazing friend. He wouldn't want us to be mourning his death. I-I realize that now. He would want us to be celebrating his life...Zut!"

Mulligan started to jam his elbow into Alexander's side, frantically trying to get his attention.

"What was that for-" Alexander asked, before following the other's frightened glances to the angry figure in the doorway.

"Oh shi-"

"Alexander Hamilton!" Eliza glared down at her husband, crossing her arms,"May I have a word?"

Before Alexander could begin to speak, his friends had thrown him outside and locked the door.

"Hi," Alexander awkwardly said, trying to avoid Eliza's glare.

Eliza took two steps, crossing the space between her and Alexander, who closed his eyes, expecting to get slapped or hit.

He didn't feel either one of the two, and opened his eyes. Eliza was gently wiping the tears from his cheeks, her soft touch like rose petals. When his cheek were dry, she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling close to his chest.

"I know losing Laurens was hard for you Alex. You could have just told me you were coming to be with your friends. I would have understood."

Alexander smiled. He had married the most wonderful woman in all of America. He gently pulled up Eliza's chin to kiss her.

"GET A ROOM!" thundered Mulligan's voice from inside the bar. Hamilton turned to see all of his friends pressed up against the window of the bar.

"Can I kill them?" He asked Eliza exasperatedly.

"Just be home by midnight," she laughed, breaking away from his embrace to walk down the street.

"Alright," he replied, pulling open the door to the bar.

"I wasn't joking when I said he's reliable with the ladies," Burr sighed, and Mulligan and Lafayette nodded along.

"One of these days I'm gonna shoot you lot!" Alexander laughed

"Not if I shoot you first!" Burr retorted, and Mulligan spat out his beer in surprise and laughter, which only made Lafayette, who was already half drunk, laugh even harder.

A few hours later they all tumbled out into the street. They waved their goodbyes, and left the bar that had brought them all together so many years ago.

It's true that John didn't live to see their glory, but they had fought together, laughed together, lived together..

And isn't that what truly matters?


End file.
